Chamomile
by NitroStation
Summary: Windblade has a special tradition she brought to Cybertron from Caminus. Starscream thinks it's weird.


Everyone knew Windblade was a strange bot, with the curious paint lines on her faceplate and the amount of time she spent in Metroplex seemingly talking to the air, but what struck as most odd of all her habits was the specially brewed energon she sipped at the precise moment when Shaula was at its peak in the sky.

Every day, without fail, she would sit in the shade of Iacon's Grand Plaza and sip delicately at her energon, legs crossed and optics closed in a portrait of serenity. Looking at her was facing an elaborate illusion that there were no blackouts all across Cybertron, no millennia war between Autobots and Decepticons and no long centuries spent in separation from the planet she was expected to be responsible for.  
Starscream didn't trust it. There were another two days spent watching her idly sip before he summoned the ball bearings to tell her so.  
"And what is _this_?" His servo waved up and down in front of her, gesturing wildly over her frame as she sat. Windblade had long grown accustomed to the Seeker's penchant for theatrics, and only blinked innocently up at him.  
"Recovery," was all she gave in explanation with a smile, earning more confusion from the mech and a sigh of frustration.  
"Recovery from _what_, sitting on your aft all day gossiping with your city pet?" The femme's smile faltered at his accusation, but the flicker of her optics only lasted a klick, and a sip from her cup set her right again.  
"From what I see, your throne is much comfier to sit on all day. I'm sure you'd know that very well, Lord Starscream." His optics almost bugged out of their sockets and Windblade had to hold back a giggle of pride (she knew pressuring Chromia further on how to talk to the Seeker would pay off). She decided to throw in a proper explanation before he started threatening to have her thrown in the brig for slander.  
"Talking to Metrotitans isn't as easy as it looks," she admitted, swirling her energon absently. "Whenever my kind did so on Caminus, we had to take a moment to recharge and gather ourselves. Eventually it... became a tradition of sorts."  
"I see..." Starscream was still suspicious, of course, but he at least allowed himself to peer into the contents of her cup. Pink, opaque liquid reflected his sneer; seemingly ordinary energon. He knew nothing was ordinary where Windblade was concerned, though.  
"And I do hope you're not wasting energon rations in continuing this 'tradition' of yours? Primus knows you've already diverted enough to Metroplex's care," he pointed out, flicking the edge of her saucer with a cruel claw. She shook her head, setting her servos and cup down demurely. Starscream was almost surprised by how elegant her movements were, almost enough to rival his own.  
Almost.  
"This energon is specially refined, with some additives to increase energy yield per quart," Windblade explained, blinking her optics slowly. "It's from my own supply, brought over from Caminus."  
"You have your own supply, yet you still leech from Cybertron's own stockpiles?" A jealous snarl found its way into Starscream's tone, which was enough to wipe the femme's faceplate clean and replace it with a sad frown. It went well with the blue markings accentuating her optics, he thought.  
"Well, this is specialised energon. We used our regular supplies on the voyage over..." Her optics looked down and she took a long sip, as if hiding any guilt that might flash on her faceplate. Starscream scoffed and folded his servos, watching her bury herself in her saucer before turning to leave-  
"I don't suppose you'd like to try some?"  
"What?" He whirled to face her again, eyeridges raised and wings twitching rapidly.  
"W-Would you like to try some? Refined energon, I mean?" she repeated with an accursed stutter, holding the strangely shaped container at her side up while her endearing smile started to grow again.  
Starscream's digits twitched and his scowl wavered, optics staring hard into her. They flicked to the energon container, then back to her, then back again. For a moment they studied the ground as a sigh rattled past his vocaliser. He didn't look up as he sat opposite her, taking difficulty in folding his legs without breaking any joints. When he had settled Windblade was already pouring a second cup for him from the container's curious curved spout; a tempting rush of neon that had him licking his lips. Even so, he accepted it warily from her hand and sniffed with it positioned under his olfactories.  
"If I find out this is poison-"  
"It's addictive, certainly, but it wouldn't do to kill you in the middle of Iacon," Windblade said with a small laugh. It only struck Starscream later that she didn't outright _deny_ that she was planning to assassinate him, but by then he was already on his second share. And he was already making plans to visit the next day when he was summoned back to Iacon's Council Chambers, and Windblade to her Metrotitan charge.


End file.
